


Darnic Fucking Dies

by evilicious



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Crack, Everyone Is Gay, I couldn't find a fanfic with Darnic in it, Multi, Rough Sex, so i wrote one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilicious/pseuds/evilicious
Summary: Darnic misplaces his wine and the evening turns sour.





	Darnic Fucking Dies

                Rider, just like his name implied, was good for just that; Riding. And his master? Oh that slick sow planned to take full advantage of her little broodmare’s capable boipussy.

                What’s-her-face adjusted her breasts and moaned in the general direction of her servant like a beached whale begging the ocean to return its warm caress.

                “I’ve been working on this aphrodisiac~” She held up a tinted red bottle and orgasmed aggressively. “To make our sessions more—” _moan_ “e-enjoyable~ Care to try it out?”

                Astolfo laughed nervously. “Can I go with no…?”  
                “How dare you talk back to me~” white haired bitch spat aggressively and excessively erotically.

                “…darn.” Asolfo groaned internally and cringed externally before scratching his balls to clear up any confusion the audience had about his gender. He considered himself a pretty chill guy? Girl? Whichever he identifies as idk and he could put up with a lot of shit, but that didn’t mean he had to _enjoy_ being on the receiving end of a fujoshi’s no-longer-suppressed sexual desires.

                “Now be a dear and strip while mama gets ready,” what’s-her-face licked her lips thirstily before uncorking the bottle and downing it in one swig.    …and spitting it out less than a second later.

                “What the _fuck_ is this?” she glared at the bottle. “This is _not_ aphrodisiac.”

                Astolfo caught a droplet on his finger and tasted it. “It’s wine. Expensive, vintage wine.” Trap Queen was French; he would know.

                “Then where the _FUCK_ ,” Yandere McBreastus threw the bottle across the dungeon—“Is my aphrodisiac?” --where it shattered upon impact on the tile next to the Beserker of Red’s foot. The man, who had been sleeping through the last few paragraphs, made himself relevant and flashed Miss Bitch a wide grin. “What?” the woman barked, brandishing her S&M whip and daring Berserker to say anything. “You think we can afford a sex dungeon _and_ a regular dungeon?”

                “Hey, I ain’t complaining,” Beserker’s flashed her a wide, toothy smile. She screamed in frustration, grabbed her discarded blouse and stormed out.

 

               

ELSEWHERE:

 

                Lancer blinked in the dark. There was someone on top of him, which was strange because, besides himself, there was only one other person who could access the wards to his private room and that person was not a snuggler and probably the _last_ person in the manor that seemed the type to dry-hump someone else in their sleep. So, with great confusion, Vlad willed his eyes to focus on the man on top of him.

                “Darnic?” He squinted. “What are you doing in my bed?”

                “Is it not obvious?” Darnic says and Vlad can feel- _feel-_ his eye-roll resonating through the dick that his currently erect and grinding into his stomach.

                “It is, but I hit my head rather hard against the door frame earlier today and wanted to confirm that I hadn’t received a concussion.”

                “Are you alright, my liege?” Darnic sounded concerned. And also horny, so it’s less of a legitimate concern for his servant’s well-being and more a concern that they will not have the hot, steamy sex he’d been pegging for.

                The hero scoffs, waving his hand in a flamboyantly intimidating manner. “Just who do you take me for? Of course I am.”

                “Good," Darnic unleashed the crazy eyes that had been passed down his family line for generations. "IMPALE ME DRACULA DADDY”

                Dracul (but his friends call him 'Big D') stopped slathering his tripple-x-sized dick with Holy Water to appreciate Darnic's bloody, virginal vagina. Darnic also had a penis which very much confused Vlad because, back in his day, boys were boys and girls were girls and WWII hadn't happened yet, so Japan hadn't been nuked into being fucked up enough to invent futanari.

                "It's magic," Darnic failed to explain. "I don't have to explain shit, my liege" And that was all the explanation Vlad needed before shrugging it off and chucking the condom he'd been given into the trash because there was no way he was willingly castrating himself with a piece of rubber. Getting murdered by his brother was a death he could live with, but dying via strangulation of the sperm cannon wasn't.

                They fuck or some shit. Vlad gets triggered and a lot of screaming goes down. There are moans of pleasure and rage and angst. It's loud and it’s WILD  BUT THEN--

                Darnic was moaning in euphoric ecstasy like a nine-month-storked beluga whale freshly-beached and going into labor when, in a silent blast of green light, the door got blasted off its hinges and landed some ten feet across the room with a very, very angry half-dressed Fiore rolling behind it.

                “SOME of us are trying to sleep.” Wheelchair-chan barged in. “Uncle Darnic, you imposed the ‘no sex outside the basement rule’ and this blatant hypocrisy is something I thought beneath you. You have lost my respect and—”

                Darnic wasn’t listening.

                Darnic was dead. Vlad’s massive Transylvanian donger had rammed its way through his anal cavity all the way to his skull. It was over. He’d been impaled on Dracula’s dick.


End file.
